


Whipped

by JetnessAffliction



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Kitchen Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:38:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetnessAffliction/pseuds/JetnessAffliction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as an early hijack attempt in an /m/ thread, back when Rayet was all the rage (she still is). It quickly lost steam, but I still like the idea of them being this way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whipped

Rayet dried off her hair in a hurry, shaking the last few drops away and tossing the damp towel aside. She pulled her hoodie on, skipping her shirt for now and just zipping it up all the way. After the third knock, the noise started getting louder, until the banging filled her small cabin and she knew rolling her eyes at the door wouldn’t stop the commotion.

“Yeah?” She called out, finally, and finished pulling on her shorts.

“Rayet, it's me.”

Oh. It was just Inaho. He was quieter when he wasn’t pounding incessantly.

“What?” She called back, standing by the frame.

“It’s wednesday.”

“So?”

“Wednesday you’re in the morning kitchen shift.”

“I skipped today, what’s it to you?”

“You were supposed to be breakfast shift.”

“What are you going to do, turn me in to Commander Lesbian?”

“No point in that. I don’t want you in trouble, I just wanted breakfast.”

“Cook it yourself, idiot.”

“Yours is better, actually.”

“Huh?” Was he for real?

“Teach me.” 

He's actually for real. “It’s almost midnight, idiot.”

“Breakfast is important.”

"Yeah? So is sleep."

"You owe me."

 

She couldn't believe the conservation they were having. Rayet yanked the port handle and flung the door, glare and frown already set. Sure enough, she was met by that placid, steady expression.

"How do I owe you anything?"

She's expecting some lame excuse about the several times he's protected the refugee van, or the ship or kept her secrets guarded. But he doesn't say a word of any of it. He just leans in toward her, eyes steady and voice low, and just the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Please. Just show me once and I won't ask again."

She shouldn't have opened the door. It was hard to argue with that face.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

  
“You should move your wrist faster,” he points out after rolling the hem of his shirtsleeve higher. He reaches around her for a skillet, “It’d be easier with chopsticks…”

 

Frown set, Rayet flicks the whisk at him and Inaho flinches, the opaque splatter mostly landing on his nose and cheek. She huffs, loudly, placing the mixing bowl back down.

 

“Is that your way of flirting?” He asks smoothly after wiping egg white from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

There’s a pause and she narrows her eyes at him. “Even someone as dense as you will know for sure if I was flirting,” She shoots back, but there isn’t any anger in her voice. Something else. Something he couldn’t quite articulate.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah,” She says curtly, and with whisk still in hand she pulls down the zipper of her hoodie until the loose gray garment hangs open. Time slows down as Inaho’s eyes track the movement, light spilling onto the thin, bare line of her chest and stomach between her tits, a hint of shadows on the edges.

 

Inaho’s eyes sweep up the sight back to her face, and he swallows timidly when she angles her hips-- the sharp movement shifts her hoodie open more, zipper edge brushing against the outline of a nipple. He doesn't stare, but it's hard to miss. The color of milk tea.

 

She leans back against the metallic counter, hips to one side, lips skewed, eyes glinting. “Don’t act like you don’t know what to do.”

 

He closes the distance easily, the skillet he was reaching for is abandoned as he places his hands on either side of her, left thumb brushing against her little finger. He leans in, voice hushed and more challenging than curious, “I thought you weren’t hungry.”

 

“Sudden appetite,” she murmurs back and holds still, her even breaths filling the slight gap between their lips. She isn't intimidated by him, and they both know it, but she trembles slightly all the same as she continues nochalantly, “I wouldn’t mind a snack..

 

Rayet turns her head, eyes lowered and shoulders raised slightly as if shrugging, but the movement is too jilted, halted, and only draws Inaho’s attention to that open gap again, stretching from behind her neck and downward. The pale color of her hoodie contrasts with the blush that appears suddenly across the exposed skin there. Shadows cast by the overhead lights making the folds clearer.

 

He dips his head just under her damp hair as it clings to her ear and inhales pointedly. Soap, mostly, but there’s a trace of salt as her skin warms and the alkaline taste appears like a phantom, already in his mouth. He licks his lips. “What if I want more than just a snack..?”

 

Suddenly she laughs- It’s short and haughty and full of promise. She reaches up with her other hand, whisk still dripping, and pulls Inaho closer by his collar. Her tongue flattens against his cheek, sloppy, hot and greedy as it cleans the splatter he had ignored there. Her right leg brushes against his left, tugging him closer and swiping upward at the end, wrapping itself there. “As long as you don’t make a mess of things, I’m fine.”

 

She lets go of Inaho’s collar and by the way she leans back over the counter, thin ribbons of egg white dripping from the whisk in her hand onto her chest and dragging his eyes with them, she’s obviously not talking about the kitchen.

 

“Deal.”

 

Rayet flicks the remaining mess on the whisk at Inaho one last time before letting the utensil go, hoisting herself onto onto the countertop and dropping backwards. She sits on the edge, knees apart, and smirks up at him when her elbows hit the counter with a muffled thud. Her hoodie spills open, over her shoulders and down her arms. Her petite tits are a mess- thick, glistening lines and droplets strewn across them.

 

Inaho takes it all in, quietly studying the display laid in front of him and memorizing it, cataloging each subtle curve of her skin as she waits, breath suddenly quicker. Impatient. He’s hard enough already, but doesn’t want to spoil a good moment. The smile he flashes her is more amused than appreciative.

 

“Make a move, already, Hero," she snaps, still smirking. "No one’s going to know about this anyway... if you somehow fuck up”

 

“Can you stop talking for a second. I’m trying to savor this.”

 

“You wierdo…” She starts, but the rest of her half-hearted insults melt into a stuttered inhale as Inaho drags his tongue around her the petite, soft curves of her right tit, lapping up the sticky mess and deliberately avoiding the hardening nub there. It takes a lot of self control on his part, distracting as the sight is. But Inaho isn’t about to break pace. He continues on, licking the flat expanses clean and mouthing gingerly around the fleshy swells, collecting drops with his lower lip and doing more to spread the wet mess than anything.

 

Rayet’s eyes slip closed, lips parted just enough to let loose shallow, measured breaths. But then he finally rounds on her left nipple, holding it carefully between his teeth as his tongue flicks over it and her impatient, keening moan goes straight to his cock. Suddenly it’s as if she’s hogging all the oxygen between them, and Inaho grabs her hips and yanks her closer. Her knees press tightly on either side of his waist, high on his waist.

 

The counter is too tall.

.

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.

[unfinished end]

**Author's Note:**

> i'm beyond hope.


End file.
